


First Real Experience

by sexy-captain-rexy (smolkatsudon)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, M/M, Male Slash, Romance, Sexual Tension, but i guess they find some common ground, its possible that this could happen, maybe some, some hate to begin with, they're fighting a war after all, to a degree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 07:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolkatsudon/pseuds/sexy-captain-rexy
Summary: Poe, due to some unfortunate stroke of luck, is forced on the ground for once. Due to that same unfortunate stroke of luck, he ends up meeting with a hissy, ginger man from the First Order.Now Poe is familiar with hard-to-get people and that the effort that's needed to find some sort of connection with them might not be worth all the pain and sweat (sometimes it is), but something about this general is different than all the people he's met before.Maybe it's his hair? No, probably not, but Poe's got an idea.





	First Real Experience

Limited numbers of equipment sure is a pain in the ass to deal with when you’re a pilot type of fighter but you have to make do with the ground. Due to circumstances you didn’t want to accept but were reasonable enough to  _ have _ to accept.  
  


Is Poe even a ground fighter? Well, he himself hopes that he’s relatively well versed in ground assault techniques and being able to survive with just the blaster in his hand with his own legs to carry him through the undergrowth. All Poe is really hoping for is to leave this battle  _ alive _ . But when you’re physically separated from your larger pack and basically walking around blindly hoping that some stormtrooper with a sniper won’t get to you before you get back, hopes can be quite easily dashed.

Being on the ground  _ sure _ is fun.

_ boom _

Another explosion echoes through the air and Poe sighs with a frown. It sounded like it came from that way, but it also sounded like it came that way. And who was responsible for that explosion in the first place? First Order or the Resistance? Friend or foe?

Honestly, he’d much rather be in the sky than be— 

He notices a presence before he can continue his silent ranting, whirling around with his blaster held up on the air and pointed forward. Poe pulls the trigger, aiming low to avoid possibly injuring a Resistance member, and he sees the red beam of the weapon connect with the ground to send dirt flying. He’s met with a whirl of orange before a flash of red flying towards his head.  The red collides with the tree trunk next to his head, blackening the bark to a sickening darkness that pummels Poe with a chill. That isn’t a friend behind the other blaster, so he does the next most reasonable thing— run.

The orange he saw amongst the dark greens and browns of the forest ring through his mind as he pumps his legs tirelessly over the uneven terrain in equally uneven and zigzagging lines. All around him, the red follows, leaping with their fangs bared and turning whatever luckily situates itself in its path to burn them to ash and dust with its touch.

Poe knows he can’t run forever, not with the limited knowledge of where he is and where his side of war is in the forest, so what’s the next best thing to do? He doesn’t know for sure what the best thing to do would be, but he does come up with an idea that might work: hope that whatever that orange blob is will be stupid enough to walk by him when he hides.

Genius plan, Poe, genius.

Poe wonders to himself whether or not he’s always this sarcastic and scathing towards himself as he is today while struggling up the closest tree, but ultimately decides that he’s probably always like this with himself. However, with the amount of stupid decisions that has arisen already from that same mind, he probably opted a long, long time ago to ignore this voice in his mind that’s meant to protect him from easily avoidable consequences and—

Poe suddenly feels like he can’t heave himself up anymore and tugs a little harder. Whatever has him in their grasp isn't letting go, and it isn't until he cranes his head over his shoulder that he sees what has caught him in their trap— a tree branch. He tries tugging and tugging again, but to his displeasure, the branch still retains its relentless grasp on his jacket. At least he’s relatively safe in the tree and somewhat far from the ground?

The sound of branches snapping and unhappy grumbling reaches his ears through the still yet vibrating air of the battlefield and Poe immediately feels his body stiffen. Alarm and fear pulse through his veins and for a moment, he wonders if this is where he’ll die. 

Personally, Poe would have chosen to die in the air, maybe in a fighter in space and fighting for the Resistance. He didn’t  _ want _ to die, of course, but going out heroically in the comfort of the air is a nicer ending than being  _ shot _ at by some orange  _ thing  _ while  _ stuck _ in a  _ tree _ . It really does sound much more pathetic spelled out like that, doesn’t it?

Through the leaves and his incessant rambling, Poe can make out the orange again, bobbing slowly and cautiously through the forest. The man’s blaster is held up and the air around the man screams, “I’ll shoot whatever moves three times and then another three times to make sure it’s dead.” Luckily for Poe, the blaster isn’t pointed towards his suspended body in the tree. If Poe waits long enough, the ginger sharpshooter can make his way past the tree so that Poe can free himself and escape.

As the ginger man nears closer, eventually stopping just under him, Poe’s heart is pounding against his chest. He’s so close to escaping the man’s clutches and all he needs is the for the ginger to take one step, and then another, off  _ that _ way. And he does. The ginger First Order member steps forward to continue his way past the tree.

_ snap _

Why did Poe ever hope for a good day filled with luck and sunshine?

Disaster strikes and Poe watches as he falls closer and closer to the ground as well as the ginger. The descent is so sudden that the ginger only has time to look up with his eyes widening at the same time before they smash into each other and tumble to the ground below.

In a mess of groaning and limbs, Poe is the first to shake somewhat out of the effects of the chance meeting to realise that he is laying on top of the ginger man’s chest. Quickly scrambling up, Poe grabs the black clothed wrists and pins them down to the ground, noticing that his blaster is sitting out of arm's reach. After making sure that the enemy’s weapon is as far as his own weapon is from him, he lets out a sigh of relief and brings his attention back to the prisoner beneath him.

Poe first sees the bright orange of the man’s hair pressed against the dark brown of the ground before his eyes wander down. He sees the man’s blue eyes, blinking when he sees the strange colour. Not many in the Resistance, or of anyone he’s ever seen, has blue eyes like the ginger underneath him, and frankly they look nice with his orange hair and pale skin. When he stares a little longer at the enemy, the man’s lip twist into a frown and Poe notices how well defined the man’s collar bones are under his black suit.

“Get off of me, Rebel  _ scum _ ,” are the only words that drift out past the lips of the pale man. Poe feels his own lips curl into a frown at the phrase, finding something familiar about the man now that he’s heard his voice.

Poe falls silent as the gears in his mind start to churn quicker and quicker. The words are familiar, and he knows this. He keeps turning the words over and over in his mind, analyzing and repeating them in the man’s voice without pause. The forest grows silence, save for the occasional explosions happening in the distance and the mellow drifting of loud voices locked in battle. Even the man underneath Poe is silent, watching Poe as if he’s coming up with an escape plan.

Finally, everything clicks. 

The voice, the words, the overall unpleasantness of the ginger. Right, and the needlessly fancy outfit that looks like it really didn’t match the battlefield and instead matched the wearer’s personality, or something.

“ _ You’re _ General Hugs?”

For a moment, any negative feelings that had been paired with the infamous General Hux is momentarily tossed off a cliff. Poe can’t explain it, but something just feels off now. In his heart, Poe wonders if it’s either luck or coincidence that this time, Poe’s the one with the control and dominance over the situation. No more large ships with the one and overpowering side and no more need for technology to label one or the other as stronger. In this situation, being physically and metaphorically stronger than Hux, Poe’s the one in charge. 

And that means he can do  _ anything _ he wants.

“Can you be any more stupid? My name is  _ Hux _ ,” snaps the ginger man angrily, feverously trying to pry his hand out from Poe’s grip. Too bad Poe’s a little stronger then the man, leaving Hux to struggle in vain beneath the man on top of him.

Sure enough, judging from the voice alone, this  _ is  _ the same man who idiotically fell for Poe’s trick of buying for time. It  _ really is  _ him.

“You…” Poe starts off before his eyes trail along Hux’s figure. His mind wanders down randoms mental paths as his brown eyes take in everything he could see. He even shifts his body around so that he could look at his entire body.

“What?” Hux questions aggressively at the lack of continuation to Poe’s words, heaving out a sharp sigh, “and just what do you think you’re doing?”

Poe hums at his questions as an immediate answer, continuing his slow observation of the ginger man’s body. Before long, he brings his focus from Hux’s legs back to his face. Meeting with a horribly angry frown, Poe can’t help but feel his face crack a grin.

“Well, you  _ are _ really tall, for one,” Poe answers lowly, his voice lowering as a strange feeling rises up from his chest. It bubbles in his mind, churning powerfully as Hux narrows his eyes at the change in attitude.

Hux is the perfect kind of person for Poe.

Afterall, the one thing Poe liked the most as a hidden hobby is screwing around with people. The stricter and less loose kind of person you are, the more  _ fun _ you are to mess around with.

“What are you planning?” The words are barely a whisper, coming out soft with a hint of fear and confusion. There’s some amount of interest mixed in there, Poe notices, and Poe’s grin widens as Hux’s frown deepens.

“This is the first time I’m ever getting a good look at you, General,” Poe explains with a huff as he switches his grin to a smile of pity. He shrugs his shoulders, loosening his hold on the man on the ground. At this, Hux immediately moves to push the brunette off of him, only to be slammed back down onto the ground once again.

Hux practically hisses like a cat, narrowing his blue irises as anger rages behind the calculative quality of his gaze. Poe simply smirks at the prospect of having some much power over the high ranking officer. He really  _ did _ enjoy being on the top of the hierarchy— quite physically, actually. But now that Poe thinks about it, this isn’t the first time he’s been physically above someone, asserting the dominance that seems so natural to his body and muscles. For one, he’s managed to wrestle Finn to the ground at least once or twice during their sparring practices, but none of them ended like this: interest sparking through their eyes, foreign emotions running amok, and this weird, burning desire to conquer.

“Well, are you going to stay like this or will you kill me?” Hux’s voice calls Poe back out from his thoughts to greet him with his ever present frown. Poe raises an eyebrow at his words and then remembers that they’re in the middle of a war.

“No one told me that you were a stick, General,” Poe begins, leaning in a little closer to Hux with a eyes downcasted beneath half lidded eyes to peer into the blue beneath his brown, “now I feel like a bully for treating you like that.”

Hux’s eyebrows furrow and the frown on his face morphs into something less of anger and murderous intent to something more alarmed. Poe realises how close they are when he feels Hux’s chest rise to meet with his, and with a glance down to the site of their physical connection, Poe blinks.

In all truthfulness, Hux could just have easily thrusted his head up to collide it with Poe’s and force a surprise that would knock Poe down a peg or so. With that distraction underway, Hux might even have enough time to release himself and scramble for his gun. Then, without a second thought, he would shoot him and leave his body to rot as the war continues to wage on.

But it doesn’t come and neither does any other movement from the pinned down general. All Hux seems to be able to do is keep a barely-there control over his breathing.

For some odd reason, the negative emotions resurface again with an almost primal desire to force some sort of submission in the man beneath him. Poe doesn’t exactly understand the meaning or if this is supposed to mean something to him, but in this situation, Poe really could do anything he wanted. There’s just about enough anger and pent up frustration welling up from his heart to his mind, clouding his judgement for a moment as he stares down at the ginger, to summon a voice within him. It whispers persuasive ideas to Poe, telling him to act on what he wants, and for a moment he wonders what would happen if he does let it take control.

In a whirlwind of possible actions, Poe settles on leaning closer to the face of the general and staring deeply into Hux’s eyes. He can feel his chest practically resting on the well dressed chest of the presently compliant man. Poe can hear and feel Hux’s breath hitch for a moment, and Poe smiles at this reaction. He’s seen it before, and judging by the understanding nature of those who’ve heard of Poe’s talents in things  _ other  _ than piloting, his own knowledge of this sort of thing apparently comes natural to him.

“You sound uncomfortable down there, General, could I be of any assistance?” Poe forces the growl that rises up from the back of his throat back down, but a part of it rushes out, and Hux catches it. Poe can see a conflicted expression take the place of Hux’s previously alarmed expression for just a second.

“If you would get off of me instead of toying with me, Rebel, I would be far more comfortable.” Hux returns to his scowl and irritable mood and Poe can’t help but miss the other Hux from seconds ago.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”

Poe drags Hux’s wrists together over his head, and at this turn of events, Hux starts to struggle a little more violently. At the despairing thrashing of his movements, Poe almost loses control over Hux’s wrists but manages to catch it back in time before Hux can shove him off. Again, Poe forces his advances down back to the ground with a grunt, stopping when he sees Hux’s disheveled appearance laying flat on the ground. His breathing is no longer steady and his chest is rising up and down almost as fast as the rate Poe’s heart is beating at.

“What are you planning?” Hux questions breathlessly, watching Poe as he continues kneeling over his midsection. 

“That’s a good question,  _ General Hux _ .” Poe’s voice is even softer and deeper than before as his eyes wanders over the appearance of the ginger man. A strange feeling rises from his chest, pining for something that he didn't understand or unconsciously didn't want to understand.

Either way, Poe knows that this is getting dangerous. He needs to end it somehow, but something in him didn’t mention the possibility of trying to reach for one of the blasters laying on the ground. Something in him wanted more, maybe an encounter in the future. Well, he does like the present where he’s seated above the general, but his brain’s pleading for this venture to end is getting stronger and stronger by the second. He really needed to get back to the others.

So he does the next best thing: a compromise of both his heart and mind.

Poe pulls his eyes down from Hux’s now silent face to his chest where his places his free hand. He can feel Hux tense up from his touch, the little muscle underneath bunching up tightly, and something else warms within Poe. Less than just a warmth and more like a fire, Poe frowns. Now he  _ really _ wants a second opportunity to maybe recreate this situation. Hopefully Hux would be just as easily backed into a corner as he was today.

Without another word, Poe pulls his hand away, balling it into a fist before driving it into Hux’s abdomen right where he had placed his hand before. He can hear Hux cough out the rest of his breath before any opposing force acting on him disappears completely. Letting go of his control over the man, Poe straightens up his back and lets his eyes wander the treeline around him.

Explosions still echo in the air and voices are still haunting the wind. The war is still happening and Poe sighs. With yet another wish for the war to just end already, he pulls himself onto his feet and glances back down at the knocked out body. His eyes rest on the pale face framed in orange before he reaches into Hux’s pockets. Rummaging for many silent moments, he finally pulls out a device that looks like a tracking device of some sort. Probably for emergency back up, or something.

Poe clicks the button and the light that had been a still green changes to a blinking red. He places the device into one of Hux’s hands and then turns to grab his blaster before striding towards a direction that sounded like it had Rey’s voice yelling in the distance. Pushing apart the bushes and stepping through, Poe sends one last glance over his shoulder towards Hux’s face.

He almost looks peaceful laying on the ground beneath the  _ swishing _ leaves overhead and Poe feels his heart beating madly. He doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline of facing off with the general or if it’s something else.

Maybe if they had met on different terms, the feelings that Poe couldn’t really understand could have had time to be understood and expressed. Then again, they are in a war after all, so they’d have plenty of chances to meet again, and that meant a constant return to these same feelings.

Maybe there’d also be a chance to continue where today could have gone.


End file.
